House Call Part Three
Jean-Luc Picard picked up his pace aiming for a racing finish to his run. He was rounding on the last stretch before he would reach home, legs, arms, breath all working harmoniously to propel him onward. He felt good; strong, and healthy. In three long strides, he finished, checked his pacer and realised he'd completed his fastest run in three years. He allowed himself to slow to a jog then came to a full stop.
With his hands on his knees to stretch out his back, he panted, smiling, sweat pouring down his face, his back… everywhere.
He pressed the door chime and waited for Beverly to answer the door. He'd made it home in plenty of time to get himself cleaned up then take over Theodore's morning routine before dropping him at daycare.
She answered without acknowledging him, simply opening the door then running back upstairs to the crying baby she'd left sitting unhappily in his bouncer in their bedroom.
Jean-Luc removed his sneakers then followed her to the source of the commotion. She picked Theodore up, his little face screwed up tightly, wailing as loud as his tiny lungs would allow. She popped him against her shoulder and patted his back rhythmically shushing in time, a strategy she'd deployed when Wesley was small and one that came naturally to her now.
"What's all this noise young man?" he asked, taking the baby from her. Theodore continued to wail, his fury growing in intensity in his father's arms. She looked frazzled, half dressed in her uniform and her hair wrapped up in a towel still wet from her shower. "He's still crying..."
"He's been crying since you left… I don't know what the problem is. I fed him, again, changed him, sang him that song he seems to like, again. He's having a bad week it would seem…" she replied hurriedly, pulling on her boots as she spoke. "Unfortunately, I have about twelve minutes before my meeting… Will you two be okay?" she finished, as she waved a dryer over her hair then pulled it into a high ponytail.
"Of course we will, won't we?" he replied confidently. Sometimes captains, and admirals, had to fake it until they made it… "Let's just say goodbye to Mummy," he continued, hoping his calm quiet voice would break through the wailing long enough for him to think for a second.
"See you later… I love you – both of you!" she called almost running out of the room and to the transport station.
Theodore continued to assert his complaint, while his father held him at arm's length. Jean-Luc quickly checked his nappy then bounced him up and down trying to distract his son and break the crying. He wooshed him round the room, swooping him down low then up high, something he remembered that worked without fail when Meribor had been this age … still the crying continued. Jean-Luc strapped him into the bouncer, called up some Betazed nursery song that he seemed to like, let him suck on his little finger, and hoped beyond hope that he would calm down.
Beverly was still on leave, she had another few months before she would return full time but the project she had instigated shortly before Theodore's birth, was nearing a conclusion and she'd been called in to lead the final meetings. Just three short meetings over a few weeks… unfortunately Theodore had not been a fan of her absence and didn't seem to understand how important his mother was to Starfleet Medical.
At two months old, he was starting to make his voice heard and was showing signs of a strong character in development…
After a few minutes of furious sucking, Jean-Luc watched as his son's eyes grew heavier by the second and felt the sucking action slow to a halt. He remained frozen where he was, unwilling to break the spell that had finally calmed the baby. He could feel his own muscles starting to cool down, the tell-tale pulling a reminder that he'd yet to stretch after his run. And still he waited, Theodore sucking sporadically on his little finger. He waited in place until a tight, painful cramp made its presence felt in his calf. Hesitantly, he pulled his finger out slowly, ever so slowly until it released with a small pop.
He backed away, limping slightly thanks to the cramp, in the direction of en suite shower, hoping the hot water would soothe his muscles. He undressed as quietly as he could and left the door to the bathroom open so he could dash back in if necessary.
In his sleep, Theodore let out a tiny cry, his mouth turned down into a frown. Still not happy.
Jean-Luc paused, frozen in place. His own breath loud in his ears, his heart pounding in his chest. He waited, three, four, ten seconds, and when Theodore didn't react any further, he continued his journey backwards into the shower.
He showered quickly, the water working out the kinks and relaxing the cramp. He wrapped a towel around his waist then stepped lightly back into the bedroom to get his uniform from the closet. He dressed as quickly and quietly as he could. The bouncer was right in the middle of the room which meant he had to pass it several times as he got himself ready. Each pass more perilous than the last...
Theodore slept on… making small sucking motions with his mouth, his little fist flinching into an open hand sporadically. Jean-Luc wondered what he was dreaming of… his son's impossibly long eyelashes were damp making them even more pronounced than usual. His hair was growing back in after falling out a few weeks ago, and he noticed it seemed much fairer, blonde almost. Earlier he'd noticed too that his eyes were turning from slate blue to green. There was no doubt about it, Theodore was his father's son. He recalled pictures of his own toddlerhood, a mop of blonde hair on his head that had turned steadily darker as he'd grown older.
He crept out of the room to gather Theodore's bag ready for daycare, and his own attaché full of PADDs and reports. He readied the papoose, and the baby's snowsuit and hat making sure he had everything ready to go: he was very aware that the second he picked up his son, the wailing would begin again and probably wouldn't stop until they reached the fleet daycare: sanctuary.
He noticed that his heart was still racing, and brushed it off as a by-product of trying to get the day started in less than ideal circumstances.
He looked around one final time to ensure he really did have everything they would need, then bounded back upstairs to his son.
He had the papoose in place across his shoulders already, all he needed to do was pick up the baby and pull the straps up and over his little body.
He looked at Theodore, sleeping peacefully, no sign of the rage and fury that he'd felt just a few minutes earlier. He hoped to all the deities he could recall that he would manage to relocate the child without incurring his wrath.
He gave himself the count of three then quietly, carefully, slowly picked up his son, moving incrementally until he had him tucked against his chest and then clicked the last strap into place. He didn't dare move. He could feel the heat of Theodore's breath through his uniform and wondered of the baby would be disturbed by his father's heart… He was feeling a creeping sense of tension but brushed it off as a factor of the morning's single parent status. They had only needed to get somewhere on time once since the baby had been born. He'd taken a few weeks off then happily returned to work leaving Beverly and Theodore at home. He marvelled briefly at how fast old habits and punctuality faded when met with the needs and wants of a tiny human being. What had he done with all the extra time he'd had to himself before his son's birth?
He moved off slowly, then stopped suddenly as he realised that he'd forgotten to dress Theodore in his snowsuit and hat. He wondered briefly if he'd get away with the quick walk to the island's transport station and the ten-minute walk to the daycare at the other end but then realised he was only wearing a onesie and winter was upon them. He raced through the options in his mind, he could grab his overcoat, perhaps it would fit around Theodore as well… he could call in, work from home until Beverly's meeting was done… Then it came to him: he would have to evoke admiral's privilege, there was no way around it.
"Admiral Picard to transporter HQ," he whispered, tapping at the communicator placed just to the side of his sleeping son. He was too quiet for HQ comm to pick up his request.
"Transport HQ, Admiral Picard here," he whispered slightly louder this time.
"Transport HQ here, go ahead please Admiral," came a booming voice through the tiny speaker.
He froze, locked in place once again… he would never get away with it, Theodore was surely going to wake now. The baby shifted, finding his own thumb and sucking hard, a frown on his little forehead.
"Two for site-to-site transport directly to Fleet daycare." He swallowed, feeling guilty at pulling rank and lining up a frivolous transport when it really wasn't anything approaching what Starfleet would deem an urgent matter.
"We can't get a lock on a second person Sir, are they within ten metres of you Admiral?"
"Just lock onto my signal… the second person is a baby."
"That would explain it Sir, stand-by… I should let you know-
"Energise," he snapped cutting off the Transport operator.
"Of course, Admiral. Energising now Sir."
Jean-Luc and Theodore dissolved into the transport then found themselves rematerializing in the foyer of the daycare facility. Just as they had finished forming, Theodore opened his eyes in terror and let out the most almighty wail drawing the attention of the less fortunate parents who were arriving more conventionally, and the flock of carers waiting to gather up the children and babies. Nothing like making an entrance he thought to himself.
He walked over to the booking desk, "Uh… this is uh… Theodore Howard-Picard… we have him booked in for the morning?" he said loudly over the pitch of his son.
"Ah yes, little Theodore… I remember from last week. His second visit here isn't that right?" the young man cooed as Jean-Luc extracted the freshly furious baby from the papoose.
"Yes, that's right. His mother will be coming to collect him in two hours." He said as Theodore continued to cry. "Everything he needs is here in this bag… he seems quite disgruntled today…"
"Don't worry Sir, we'll be fine in just a moment won't we?" the young man continued as he took the baby from Picard. He bounced Theodore and took him over to the window where there was a beautiful light installation twinkling away.
Theodore calmed almost immediately transfixed by the light patterns and colours. "First time transporting Admiral? I mean for the baby?"
So, he'd been noticed. He gulped down his guilt, he knew he wasn't supposed to pull favours. There were rules to Earth transporting, it wasn't an infinite resource. There were long-held regulations against just materialising anywhere you wanted. An intricate network of transport stations were designed to make sure everyone had free access to excellent public transport and that less than savoury characters couldn't play havoc.
"It was indeed… he uh…"
The carer put a finger to his lips, and shook his head, "Say no more Sir, I completely understand. There's nothing like a crying baby is there?"
So that was what the transport operator had been trying to warn him about. Hubris had got the better of him in the heat of the moment. Jean-Luc shook his head, his pulse rate still wasn't coming down even though he knew he was minutes away from the calm and tranquillity of his office.
The ensign continued, using a calm sing-song voice and Jean-Luc didn't know if it was aimed at him, or his son, "Theodore here will be just fine… we're going to check out this installation here… go meet the other babies and get some milk. Doctor Crusher left plenty of expressed milk with us last week. There's no need for any worries."
"In that case, I'll uh…" he fiddled with the straps of the papoose still in place around his shoulders, stuffing it into the bag ready for Beverly when she'd need it later on. He suddenly didn't want to leave his son at all.
"Go, Theodore is in good hands. Please Admiral, do not worry," he finished, patting Jean-Luc on the shoulder reassuringly. He simultaneously took Theodore's bag all while holding the baby expertly in his other arm.
Jean-Luc reached down to his son and kissed him on the top of his fluffy head, "A bientôt mon chou…"
And with that, he straightened his shoulders, pulled down his uniform tunic, and walked out of the building. He turned back to see the carer disappear into the main area of the daycare centre. "A bientôt," he whispered, and strode off ready to begin his day in earnest even though he felt rather like he'd already done a full day's work and all before zero eight hundred hours.